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Commanding fires of death to light
The darkness of her scenery.

By torch and trumpet fast arrayed,
Each horseman drew his battle-blāde,
And furious every chärger neighed
To join the dreadful revelry.

Then shook the hills with thunder riven,
Then rushed the steed to battle driven,
And louder than the bōlts of heaven
Fär flashed the red artillery.

But redder yet that light shall glōw
On Linden's hills of stained snōw,
And bloodiër jet the torrent flow
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun
Can pierce the wâr-clouds, rōlling dun,
Where furious Frank, and fiëry Hun,
Shout in their sulph'rous canopy.

The combat deepens. On, ÿē brāve,
Who rush to glōry, or the grāve!
Wave, Munich! âll thy banners wave,
And charge with âll thy chivalry!

Few, few, shall pärt where many meet! The snow shall be their winding sheet, And every turf beneath their feet

Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.

46. THE THREE FISHERS.

Three Fishers went sailing away to the West,
Away to the west as the sun went down;

Each thought on the woman who loved him the best,
And the children stood watching them out of the

town ;

For men must work, and women must weep,
And there's little to earn, and many to keep,
Though the härbor bär bē moaning.

Three wives sat up in the light-house tow-er,

And they trimmed the lamps as the sun went down; They looked at the squâll, and they looked at the shower,

And the night-rack came rōlling up ragged and brown,

But men must work, and women must weep,
Though storms bẽ sudden, and wâters deep,
And the härbor bär bē moaning,

Three corpses lay out on the shining sands
In the morning gleam as the tide went down,
And the women are weeping and wringing their hands
For those who will never come home to the town;
For men must work, and women must weep,
And the sooner it's ōver, the sooner to sleep;
And goodbye to the bär and its moaning.

47.-TRUST.

1. Commit thou âll thy griefs and ways into His hands, to His sūre truth and tender care, who earth and heaven commands. 2. Who points the clouds their course, whom winds and seas obey; He shall direct thy wandering feet, He shall prepare thy way. 3. Put thou thy trust in God, in duty's path gō on; fix on His word thy steadfast eye, so shall thy work be done. 4. Nō profit canst thou gain by self-consuming care; to Him commend thy cause, His ear..... attends the softest prayer. 5. Give to the winds thy fears; hōpe, and bē undismayed: God hears thy sighs, and counts thy tears; God shall lift up thỹ head. 6. Through waves, and clouds, and storms, He gently clears thy way; wait thou His tīme—thỹ därkest night...shall end in brightest day.

48.-INGRATITUDE.

1. Blow, blow, thou winter wind, thou ärt not so unkind as man's ingratitude; thy tooth is not so keen...because thou art not seen, although thỹ breath be rûde. 2. Freeze, freeze thou bitter skỹ, thou dost not bite sō nigh...as benefits forgot; though thou the wâters wârp, thy sting is not so shärp...as friend remembered not.

49.-MERCY.

.I

The quâlity of mercy is not strained-it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven...upon the place beneath; it is twice blest-it blesseth him that gives, and him that takes; 'tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes...the throned monarch better than his crown; His scepter shows the force of temporal power,...the attribute to awe and majesty,... wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; but mercy is above this sceptered sway—it is enthrōnëd in the hearts of kings,...it is an attribute to God himself; and earthly power doth then show līkest God's... when mercy seasons justice. Consider this: that in the course of justice, none of us...should see salvation. We do pray for mercy; and that same prayer doth teach us âll to render...the deeds of mercy.

50. THE GATHERED LILIES.

Alas! our spotless lilies, our gärland of delight, Our joy through summer's sultry day, our dream through bälmy night;

Our beautiful, our peerless ones, that graced our gärden bowers

Woe for our crown of joy and pride, our fair, our vanished flowers!

They grew in softest beauty beneath our fostering cāre,

And every morning's light beheld their loveliness mōre fair,

Their bells of snow-white pūrity...were shielded and

scarce seen

Through the rich glossy shelter...of thōṣe kind leaves of green.

Last ēve the dew fell bälmily, the holy moon was bright,

And our flowers lay folded peacefully...beneath her tranquil light;

But when to drink their beauty in, we come anew with morn,

We find no flowers, but trampled ground, and leaves âll crushed and tōrn.

Alas! for our hearts' flowerets, sō dearly loved and cherished,

Ah! would that only earth's fair growth...had withered thus and perished!

New lilies will return with spring, but who the same shall say

For the flowers from the heart's gärden...sō rûdely torn away?

Our own beloved ones that decked...our path with bud and bloom,

And spread a light of joyous life...where âll befōre was gloom;

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